


His Heart is Already Mine

by AngryPirateHusbands



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Caretaking, Developing Relationship, Everyone Is Gay, Feelings, Fever, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-17
Updated: 2016-10-17
Packaged: 2018-08-22 11:41:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8284519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngryPirateHusbands/pseuds/AngryPirateHusbands
Summary: When Silver collapses aboard the deck of the Walrus, overcome with fever from an infection in his leg, Flint immediately alters their course to return to Maroon Island.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [pirate_prompts_2016](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/pirate_prompts_2016) collection. 



As the days went by Flint could clearly see that Silver was once again testing the limits of his injury. He all but refused to use the crutch despite Howell's warnings and his own. However he had long given up on that argument. It appeared Silver was just as stubborn as he was when it came to listening to reason. And so he remained silent. He stood by and watched as the quartermaster went about his days helping the crew with the rigging, repairing leaks in the hold, and taking up any tasks the other men had begun to slack on. Flint was well aware that sooner or later Silver's neglect and overexertion would cause some form of repercussion. And yet he waited. If Silver was so intent on working himself until collapse then he would let him do just that. Maybe then he would see reason.

The crew had just claimed a prize that they had been pursuing for over three days now. They had heard rumors of the large merchant vessel while resupplying in port and had immediately given chase. Silver could be heard shouting orders to the men as they brought over the cargo deemed valuable. Flint, however, stood on the quarterdeck to oversee the movement between the two ships. Though they had fought well they had eventually succumbed to their skill and number. But not before suffering severe casualties. About thirteen of their had men survived and were now huddled together on the main deck under close guard. Though he severely doubted any of them would be so reckless as to try resisting, their numbers were so few, one could never be too careful. Men could easily be driven to foolish acts when faced with their own mortality.

The men had just brought over the last of the holdings when Flint gave the order. "Cut us loose and get us underway," he shouted. Silver gave a curt nod before relaying the command to the men that were moving too slowly for his tastes. Since his new position as quartermaster his expectations for the crew had risen dramatically. In his mind, they needed to be just as strong, quick, and committed as their captain. As swords slashed through the ropes the _Walrus_ began to pull away. Eventually Flint tore his eyes from the wrecked mass that had been left in their wake. He gathered the vessel would sink within the hour. As Flint moved down the steps to the main deck he gave Mr. Degroot the orders for their new course.

Flint spotted Silver leaning against the railing and made his way over to join him. "Quite a good haul," he pointed out evenly as his gaze traveled out over the water. When the quartermaster didn't answer he directed him a curious look. For one who never seemed to fall short of having something to say, his silence stunned him. However, when his eyes settled on that face he suddenly understood his loss for words. Any and all color was missing from Silver's cheeks. His knuckles were blanched as they gripped the railing and his stare seemed vacant. The man had just begun to turn his head when his good leg gave out from under him.

Flint reached out to catch the man before he had the chance to hit the deck. However he was just barely able to hold him up due to the angle of his collapse. "Billy!" he shouted. He could hear the heavy footfalls and soon the man appeared as if from nowhere. He quickly slung a limp arm across his shoulder before his own latched around Silver's waist to secure his hold.

Billy shook his head as a string of curses left his lips. "I knew he looked strange today... Bastard assured me he was fine."

Flint adjusted his own position to one that offered better support. He looked down at Silver now, at the head that hung limply between them. His eyes had fallen shut and his cracked lips were slightly parted. The furrow on his brow was unmistakable. Flint offered a slight nod as he sighed. "Come on.. Help me get him to my quarters." As they moved he called out again to Mr. Degroot. "Belay that order and change our course, take us back to the Island!"

Degroot cast a half-concerned look towards the man they carried before nodding. "As you wish, Captain!"

With Billy's help they were able to get Silver situated easily enough. They laid him down atop the large window seat. The same one on which he had spent weeks of recovery after the loss of his leg. While Flint considered granting the man his bed as it was surely more comfortable, he didn't want to risk appearances. Once they got him settled he waved Billy off. "Fetch Doctor Howell, quickly."

When the cabin door closed he dragged his chair away from the desk so that he could sit at Silver's side. The man's face was still unnaturally pale, his featured hardened by apparent pain. He could see the beads of sweat that collected around his hairline. When he touched a palm to his forehead it was scorched with fever. A deep frown pulled at the corners of Flint's mouth as something gnawed at the back of his mind. Guilt?

The captain was brought back from his thoughts when Billy returned with Doctor Howell in tow. Standing he drew back to give the man enough room to work. "You will be acting as quartermaster until Mr. Silver recovers," he told Billy with a pointed look. The man nodded before excusing himself to his new duties. Flint, however, remained. The men had their orders and so he felt no need to rush away from Silver's side. If the men needed him, they would fetch him.

Green eyes watched as Howell removed the prosthetic and set it aside. Based on the way the man muttered beneath his breath it didn't look good. "It's completely inflamed," the doctor murmured as he unwound the bandages. Suddenly he covered his nose with the back of his arm. "Infected, too... Good thing we're only a few days away from the island. I'm going to need some more medicines, and we'll need a few men to ensure Mr. Silver stays on bedrest." He shook his head. "He really overdid it this time. To collapse so suddenly... He must've been working through this fever for quite a while." The brunette moved about the cabin to collect a pail of water. Wetting a rag he rung it out before resting it against the quartermaster's forehead. He then proceeded to clean the stump. Despite the months that had passed since the amputation, when Howell rinsed out the cloth next the water was tinged red. Several minutes passed before the wound had been cleaned, smeared generously with salve, and dressed with fresh bandages.

Howell wiped his hands clean before giving a small nod. Apparently Flint's concern met his expression, for when the man turned to him he spoke again. "He should make a full recovery, but we need to keep an eye on him."

Flint nodded slowly. Once again that feeling weighed heavily on the edge of his mind. "I'll do it. Make sure Mr. Degroot and Billy know where I am in case they need anything."

The doctor's eyebrows raised slightly in surprise but he nodded. "Yes, Captain."

When Flint finally had the room to himself he returned to his quartermaster's side. As he watched the tension in his features he was half tempted to force opium upon him when he awoke. He knew the man's aversion to the substance all too well. But perhaps this one time he was make an exception and allow himself a reprieve. Especially since Billy would be responsible for the men for the next few days.

Flint found his fingers tracing listlessly over the back of Silver's hand. Even the skin there was hot to the touch. A deep frown pulled at his lips and his eyes closed. "I'm sorry..." he murmured. He wasn't quite sure why he even bothered. Silver wasn't awake to hear him, and even if he were he wouldn't understand the reason for his apology. Even he didn't quite understand the guilt that filled him. If he had continued to pester the man about the importance of taking proper care of himself, that did not mean that he would have listened to him. It likely wouldn't have made any difference. Well, except perhaps to free his own conscience.

* * *

 It was late into the evening when Silver finally stirred. The captain was looking over their current course when he heard a groan from behind him. Flint turned to see the man looking about the lamp-lit room, the confusion clear in his eyes. "What.. happened?" he rasped, his voice raw. Fingers clutched his head, those blue eyes squeezing shut as he attempted to regain his bearings.

Flint was quiet as he sauntered over and handed the man a mug of water. Silver accepted it eagerly and gulped down the entire contents. "You collapsed on the deck," he explained after a moment. When that metal cup was held out towards him he refilled it. And again, Silver drained it empty. When the man started to try and sit up a firm hand pressed against his chest to stop him. Before Silver had a chance to speak he interjected. "You need to rest."

"But the men--"

"Have Billy to run them ragged for now." Despite his words Silver fought to sit up. In his weakened state Flint was able to push him back down with ease and he quickly gave up, an exasperated huff leaving his lips. However, just to be sure he'd stay put, Flint took a seat on the stool beside him. He didn't miss the narrowed glare angled in his direction. Green eyes were trained on the floor while his hands stayed clasped between his knees. His thumb spun the ring on his middle finger lazily as he thought. "We've set course back to the Island," he offered after a short silence. "We should be there in about two day's time. If you are not better by then, the healers there will tend to you." Silver began to argue but once more he cut him off. "You will _let_ them tend to you.

Silver exhaled softly as his eyes turned upwards to glare at the ceiling. At least, as harsh of a gaze as he could manage in his current state. The fact that he now fell quiet only proved that the fever was wearing on him. Green eyes flicked upwards to train on the man before him. Silver appeared to have settled for now. His eyes had shut once more and his chest rose and fell with each gentle breath. However, that crease in his forehead remained.

"Howell left some opium, if you'd be so inclined to take it." Flint treaded carefully with his words. When Silver managed a slight nod, albeit a bit delayed, he struggled to mask his surprise. He prepared the pipe the way the doctor had shown him so many months ago before handing it over. Silver managed only two puffs before he gave way to coughing. With a raise of his hand Flint placed the pipe back against the desk. The fever was still hot against his lips when he stooped down to kiss Silver's forehead.

"Thank you, John," he sighed softly as he sat back down.

Silver managed a slight chuckle despite the cold sweat that still clung to his skin. "Didn't do it for you," he assured him. "Already feel miserable... Rather not be in pain, too.." The corner of his mouth was upturned in the faintest smirk. Moments later Flint could already see the effects of the opium. The features of his face began to soften, the furrow in his brow dissipating as his expression gave way to one that was almost peaceful.

Flint watched over him for another hour or so, his eyes never trailing from the man before him. His chest rose and fell gently as he slept. He tended to the bandages before pressing another damp cloth to his forehead. Howell had been very specific about making sure the linen that wrapped around the stump be changed frequently. Even slightly soiled bandages would only worsen the infection, and at this point he didn't dare risk it.

* * *

 

The next two days passed by at a grueling pace. Flint could no longer ignore his duties up on deck and so he was forced to leave Silver's side. Though the man had woken up a few more times since that first night, he was rarely lucid. More often than naught he was slipping in and out of consciousness, waking only long enough to wet his lips and parched throat before drifting once more. The opium pipe rested on the table, unused but there just in case it were needed. However, right now it seemed that the pain was the least of their concerns. The fever persisted despite all attempts to make it break.

As Silver tossed and turned from the effects of the fever Flint's unease only grew. It weighed heavily like a rock in the pit of his stomach. When he saw the island on the edge of the horizon he finally felt a bit of relief. However, he knew it was only temporary. He wouldn't by satisfied until they reached land and he saw the man surrounded by healers. Scouts of the Maroon Camp had spotted their approach and were waiting by the time they arrived on the beach. The escort was always welcome. These lands were still foreign and while his men were skilled at navigating the sea, the thick forests and rolling buffs were much different. However, the extra men were especially appreciated now that they had an ill man to carry.

The quartermaster had just become settled in the healers' hut when Flint spotted Madi out of the corner of his eye. She stood beside the curtained doorway as the scouts withdrew to give the healers room. As always she carried herself with a gentle grace befitting the daughter of a queen. Her hands were clasped against her belly and her chin was held steady even as she gazed down at the sickly man. Her eyes, however, betrayed her concern. Despite himself Flint could feel the way his muscles tensed at her presence. He held no qualm with her. Yet ever since he saw the way Silver looked at her during their imprisonment... Well, he would be a liar if he denied his jealousy.

Flint watched as the three women remaining in the tent began to attend to Silver. From what he could tell, one was a healer while the other two were closer to herbalists. The bandages were unwrapped and set aside, the stump carefully cleaned before being sprinkled with what he could only imagine was their version of "holy water". When the healer began to spread a thick mixture over the wound Silver stirred. The man took in a sharp breath and his brow furrowed, his leg attempting to draw back from the touch. "Wait." The women paused, giving the captain a curious look as he removed the opium pipe from the folds of his coat. Flint quickly prepared it before kneeling beside Silver and resting the pipe against his lips. Silver drew in several puffs, more than the first night, before he once again gave way to a series of coughs. Flint took Silver's hand before nodding for them continue. Immediately Silver gripped him and Flint attempted to ignore the fingernails that cut into his palm.

"He is taking the opium?" Madi's voice was low but her shock was unmistakable.

Flint gave a slow nod. "He's finally come to reason... If only for now."

The woman just shook her head, watching how Silver's face still contorted in pain as the salve was applied. "How could you have let it come to this?" 

Flint scowled. That accusatory tone did not go unnoticed and it most certainly wasn't welcome. "As if he ever listened to you when it came to his injury," he all but growled. "He is a stubborn man that listens to no one. Not when it comes to something as personal as this..."

Madi only tilted her head as she thought. "Not even when such concerns come from a loved one?" Flint visibly tensed. His thumb moved over the back of Silver's hand, his teeth clenching as he took in the meaning of her words. She didn't give him long before continuing. "You are careful around your men," she noted, "But now, here in this tent, I can see that you love him." When Flint finally tore his eyes away from the quartermaster's face they settled on Madi in a heavy glare.

"You do not need to feel threatened by me, Captain Flint," Madi murmured as she drew closer. "It is true that I find parts of myself... drawn to this man. By what exactly I am not sure. Perhaps it is the same pull that you feel. But the way that he looks at you... He has never cast me such a glance."

Flint released a breath he wasn't aware he had been holding. His gaze moved back to rest on Silver's face. The man had fallen back into that void between sleep and restlessness. His lips were parted and his cheeks remained flushed with fever. However, any evidence of pain had dissipated from his features. Flint remained by his quartermaster's side even as the healers continued to move about them. He helped where he could, lifting the man's head so that he could better drink their medicines and holding his leg still when they redressed the stump. By the time the women were satisfied that they had done all they could, the darkness of nightfall had fallen over the camp. Madi had already slipped away and now the healers followed suite. Flint, however, remained.

Someone must have foreseen his intentions for a straw bedroll had been left behind in the corner. Flint unrolled it at Silver's feet and laid back. All of the sudden his exhaustion from the past several days weighed down heavily on him. Before he knew it he had been pulled into a deep slumber. Yet even in sleep Silver remained at the edge of his mind, the image of his face calming him like a silent lullaby.

When Flint awoke he did so slowly. Fingers moved over the stubble that shadowed his scalp with gentle and familiar touches. When those green eyes opened they fell on Silver immediately. The man was sitting up on the bed, rays of sunlight filtering through the shack wall behind him. That usual smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. The man's gaze hardened as he pushed himself up from the bedroll. Immediately he reached out to touch the man's cheek. The skin was no longer flushed with heat; his fever had finally broken.

Flint closed the space between them. He stroked Silver's cheeks gently before capturing those lips with his own. However, the kiss was brief as he quickly withdrew. "How do you feel?" he asked, his voice low. His eyes moved over Silver's face to study his features carefully. The man looked exhausted, but that was to be expected.

Silver hummed softly as he considered his question. "Tired," he said simply. Flint's hand stroked his cheek before he leaned forward to kiss his forehead. That soft smile returned as he laid back against the bed.

"You had us worried." The voice was soft yet it seemed to cut through the silence. Madi stood at the edge of the hut, her expression even though her eyes held a certain glint. Once again Flint felt the tension spread through his muscles as Madi drew close. She bent down to kiss Silver's cheek and jealousy unfurled in his belly. However, when she withdrew he realized that she had been right. There was deep affection in his eyes when he looked upon her, there was no mistaking it. But at the same time, when Silver cast him a glance and those bright blue eyes met his, there was something so much more powerful in those depths. Something reserved only for him. Just as with Thomas, what existed between he and Silver was so much more than what could be described as love and affection.

It was something else entirely.


End file.
